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William Shakespeare - Sonnet 18:
Work rating: High

	Shall I compare thee to a summer`s day?
	Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
	Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
	And summer`s lease hath all too short a date.
	Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
	And often is his gold complexion dimm`d;
	And every fair from fair sometime declines,
	By chance or nature`s changing course untrimm`d;
	But thy eternal summer shall not fade
	Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow`st;
	Nor shall Death brag thou wander`st in his shade,
	When in eternal lines to time thou grow`st:
	So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
	So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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